Drunk Nights and Blurry Lights
by Awickedstarkid
Summary: Rizzles fluff(?) Maura drags Jane home after an especially raucous night at the bar and finds herself wishing for happy endings that can never be. But maybe tonight just might be her night. One-shot.


The warm glow of the tableside lamp lit Maura's way as she and a highly intoxicated Jane plopped down on her couch. As she helped Jane get situated, she noticed the way Jane's fingers fumbled trying to get her shoes off and the captivating way her head lolled slightly to the side as she lay back against her seat. Maura realized just then that she'd never really seen Jane this inebriated.

Of course she'd seen Jane drunk before, as Jane had seen her; it was an unavoidable, however unpleasant, requirement she willingly waived away when she signed the contract of friendship.

She had just never been _this _drunk. It felt slightly off to her, bringing Jane to her house in this state, but she didn't know what else she could do. Jane's door was locked and Maura sure as hell wasn't going to finger through Jane's pockets while she dozed off in her car.

So she brought her here, and hoped her yoga had made her strong enough to carry her at least halfway to the guest room.

A drowsy moan tore her away from her thoughts and planted her firmly in reality. She glanced up to see Jane squirming out of her comfortable position, and, no, too late, falling, _falling _straight onto Maura's shoulder.

Maura felt herself go stiff with fear. She wasn't stupid, she knew why. She'd been feeling it for months, _years _maybe, but every time she sensed the warm, thin body next to her, she endured a new torrent of panic, nausea, and hopefulness.

It didn't help that the bony palm just then thudded against her thigh. She felt the spidery-long fingers that she admired so much slither up and down and around in exquisite drunken patterns against her soft trousers. A shove followed by three un-adept pats made her take in breath quickly, and then it was gone.

And then it was back. She had to strain to hear it at first, but the voice grew louder with time.

"This is a nice bone," Jane patted Maura's thigh again. "I like this bone. I like-What's it called again?"

"The Femur."

"Yeah, the Fiat or whatever…I like it. I like-"

Her head rolled off Maura's shoulder and hit her leg with full force.

_Her head, _Maura thought, _Oh shit what do I do? Her head… her LIPS. They're toying with the fabric, what do I DO?_

_I should stop this. I should wake her right now and send her off to bed, because that's what a good friend would do. Right?_

__But just this once, she didn't give in to her superego. She pushed her nagging inner-critic aside and reached a hand out toward new beginnings.

The hand somehow found it's way to Jane's face…

Aware that she was tracing lines on her best friend's face, aware of her own steadily increasing heart rate, aware that at any moment Jane could wake, she continued. Her middle finger found Jane's mouth and whispered over it's perfect surface.

It moved.

She moved. Her hand jerked back like gunshot had been fired and she kept it in the air, hovering, waiting.

"Maura…?"

She leaned in the slightest bit closer. "Yes, Jane?"

"Maura, I-"

She waited for what must have been a century before finally lowering her hand and hoisting the lithe figure off her lap.

The hands found their way under the woman's armpits and she lifted the girl chest-high. Then she tried dragging her to the guest room, but that didn't work, and Jane landed with a thud.

"Oof," came the groggy grunt of pain from the pretty Italian lying compromisingly on Maura's floor.

She lifted her head off the ground, placing a hand in her hair to alleviate some of the pain. Looking around, her eyes fell on the woman almost directly on top of her.

In her still delirious state, she muttered, "Maura, what…?"

She found herself frozen with fear again, but she pinched herself hard enough to snap out of it. "You got drunk, Jane. I was just carrying you to your bed."

The hazy, dark brown eyes moved so their gaze landed on Maura's knee next to Jane's waist, and her hand on Jane's shoulder.

"Did you get drunk, too?"

Even in this inebriated state, Jane still had her wit. Maura chuckled. "No, Jane. I think your beer is a little heavier than my wine."

"Well, in that case-" Jane pushed herself up on one arm and moved to get up.

She was halfway to the room when Maura blurt, "Wait, Jane. I have to tell you something."

"Whhaaatt…" She half whined, half drawled, already sounding like a moody toddler ready for her nap.

"I-" She started, then stopped. Maura took a deep breath. "I hope you have a good night's sleep."

Jane turned to look at her, "Yeah, yeah, I love you, too," and made her way to the guest room.

The door slammed shut, and Maura smiled. Well, that was a Freudian slip if she ever saw one.

That night she slept soundly with the knowledge that the woman she loved was in the next room over.


End file.
